JACE'S POV
I discovered that Celeste took her tea without sugar on a Tuesday. It wasn't particularly important information, but I had begun collecting small things about the people in the house. The cook preferred the radio on in the mornings. Claire read the last page of a book before deciding whether to start it. Dax never sat with his back to a door. Celeste, apparently, disliked sugar. I discovered this because I made the mistake of bringing her tea. She was in the study, reading through a stack of documents.
I had gone downstairs to get myself something and found the kitchen empty except for a tray someone had left on the counter. There were two cups. I brought one upstairs. She looked at it when I placed it beside her. "What's this?"
"Tea."
"I can see that."
"I thought you might want some."
She picked up the cup, took a sip and put it down again. "You've put sugar in it."
I looked at the cup. "I didn't realize you were particular."
"I'm not."
"You've just rejected an entire cup of tea over two spoons of sugar."
"I haven't rejected it. I simply won't drink it."
"An important distinction."
She gave me a look. I took the cup back. "I'll remember next time."
"There won't be a next time."
"Of course."
I turned towards the door. "Jace."
I looked back. She had returned to her documents. "Thank you."
It was so unexpected that I wasn't sure whether to answer. "It's only tea." I said.
"I know."
I left before she could see that I was smiling. The next morning, I found a cup waiting on the table in the study. Two spoons of sugar. I looked at it, then at her. "Someone's been paying attention."
"Don't flatter yourself. The cook made it."
"Of course." I picked it up. It was exactly how I liked it.
CELESTE'S POV
Jace had started spending time in the garden.
I noticed because I had begun taking the longer route back from the east wing, which happened to pass the bench beneath the old tree. I told myself it was a reasonable route. The corridor on the other side was being repainted, and the smell of fresh paint irritated me. It was a convincing explanation, provided I didn't examine it too closely.
He was there when I passed that afternoon, sitting with a book open on his lap. The weather had finally settled after several days of rain. Sunlight reached the far end of the garden, and the grounds were quiet. "You've found a new hiding place," I said.
He looked up. "I was under the impression this was a garden."
"It is."
"Then I don't think hiding is the correct word."
"Should I have said retreat?"
"That sounds more dignified."
I glanced at the book. "You're not reading."
"I'm taking a break."
I looked at him. He closed the book, apparently deciding that explaining himself would take more effort than the conversation deserved. I should have continued walking. Instead, I sat at the other end of the bench. He looked at me, then towards the house. "Is something wrong?"
"No."
"Are you waiting for someone?"
"No."
"Then I suppose we're both here for the same reason."
"And what reason is that?"
"An apparent shortage of interesting things to do."
I looked out across the garden. "You find the house boring?"
"Not always."
"That's reassuring."
"Some of the people are quite interesting."
I turned towards him. "Some?"
"I haven't made a final assessment."
"You've been here months."
"I'm a careful man."
I shook my head, and he smiled. We sat for a while, watching the gardener work near the far wall. Jace asked whether the tree had always been there. I told him it had been planted when we were children, though I couldn't remember who had chosen it. He asked whether Claire had been involved.
"Claire was involved in everything when we were children."
"Some things haven't changed, then."
"No. Some things haven't." He glanced at me but said nothing more. Then he returned his attention to the garden. We stayed until the sun began to disappear behind the trees. When I finally stood, he closed his book.
"Leaving already?"
"I have work."
"Of course you do."
I walked towards the house. Behind me, I heard him open his book again. I found myself looking forward to passing the garden the following afternoon.